As unseasonal heat returns to the streets of ole New York, elections, like adolescent erections, have popped up, primaries for the parties, liar's poker on a billion dollar scale. The whole damn Apple is up for sale. Who wants to take the blame for the next four years?
At the United Nations, Russia plays roulette with chemical weapons. Obama tap dances on Republican faces. The public doesn't want war. Washington will give them more. Arab Spring, Rebel's Summer and Washington's Fall.
As China goes on hacking, Big Oil continues fracking, Americans drive cars made by Welfare corporations like our adopted industrial farms all financed by banks using Uncle Sam's credit card.
Damn it's hot. The city's an August parking lot. I want beer, bikini'd women and a beach to park my rear. But Labor's weekend's come and gone. The end of summer's song. And it's back to work if you have it again.
Don Arrup
Satire1
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